Farewell to Humanity
by BarbaraKaterina
Summary: About the last step over the brink of the abyss. And about a different kind of bravery.


**Farewell to Humanity**

/About the last step over the brink of the abyss. And about a different kind of bravery./

She sat in the parlour, playing the harp and singing. It was a melancholic tune, but if it reflected her mood, nothing in her face belied the fact. She was calm and composed. The sun shone in the room and reflected on the platinum clasps in her hair. The jewels in them glimmered in the light. A connoisseur would have been able to tell that it must have been diamonds, for only those could be so bright. She finished her song, looked at the instrument for a while, and started another, similar tune. From afar, she was the very picture of leisure. Upon seeing her cold expression, some might perhaps assume that playing the harp was not precisely the way she would choose to spend her time. But only those who knew her well would have been able to tell, upon seeing her then, that she was actually waiting for something.

In the midst of the second song, a house-elf appeared at her elbow. "Begging your pardon, Miss Adelaide, but there is a gentleman to see you. He...won't be deterred. His name is Mr Riddle."

She closed her eyes for a brief moment and it that moment, for some reason, the memory of that morning flashed before them. She saw herself sitting in front of the mirror in her rooms, her elf brushing her hair, and she instructing it to put in the platinum clasps, and to bring out the lace robes, and to take care. She saw herself standing up and observing the result. She saw herself nod imperceptibly. Yes, it was perfect.

She opened her eyes again and smiled a cold smile at the elf. "Bring him here, then," she said.

A short while later, a very handsome young man entered the room and bowed to her. She rose and made a curtsey. "Miss Optima," he greeted her. "Mr Riddle," she replied.

"You can be in no doubt," he continued, "as to why I am here. Allow me to express my deep admiration for you, and" here he sank to one knee in front of her, "give me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage."

She looked at him for a while, quiet. She fought another impulse to close her eyes and remember. Instead, she slowly allowed the strongest emotion she felt at the moment to show in her expression. Contempt. Absolute, sheer contempt. When her face was finally full of it, she spoke. "How dare you," she said, looking straight at him. "How dare you, a half-blood, an orphanage boy, a boy who had to be sponsored by the school to even be able to attend Hogwarts, a boy whose father was a Muggle," she spat the word, "and whose mother was a degenerated half-Squib, whose magical relations hardly knew how to read...how dare you propose marriage to me?" She was speaking quietly, but her voice had a certain captivating quality to it. He was still kneeling, expressionless, and she was still looking at him. "To me," she continued, "daughter of the ancient family of Optimi, a family which had nothing but pureblood wizards in its bloodline for thousands of years, and which never showed any sign of degeneration? How dare you? Heir of Slytherin," she spat, "as if that could be of any interest to me. That tradition died out, you didn't keep as much as his name, let alone anything else. What do I care for the fact that he was somewhere there in your bloodline, when the heritage was diluted by Muggles and spoiled by cross-breeding, because your family was not educated enough to know that something of the sort could happen? And why should I be impressed by Slytherin in the first place, if my family's tradition goes back long before that?" She paused for a moment. "Your presumption is unpardonable, half-blood."

This was the moment when his control snapped, and she watched him, calmly, as if in slow motion, as he drew his wand and killed her. She never attempted any defence, knowing very well that there was no avoiding this fate, knowing for a long time already. She fell to the floor, still a pretty sight, even in death.

He just looked at her. She deserved to suffer more, but his anger had got the better of him. Oh well. He would make it up for himself with the rest of her family. He turned and left, leaving her there on the floor. He felt nothing. And that would be the state of his soul forever after.


End file.
